When Losing Time
by Ever Since That Day
Summary: What if something happened to make Lydia forget her best childhood friend? What if time isn't as perfectly measurable as we like to think it is? Can the two overcome some monumental mistakes? There will be some clearly marked time flip-flopping as the two's history is slowly revealed and their future brought to light. Rated M for later chapters.
1. How It Works

This is my first Beetlejuice FanFic. I've only really been into the couple for the past year or two, but I've gone in hardcore. Obviously, I do not own these characters – probably Universal Orlando does or something. You know, except what characters I decide to make up. This is going to be a slow process since I'm not completely sure how often I'll want to write or how often I'll have time to write.

Also, if the rating did not warn you, later chapters might be sexual. Please be forewarned. Furthermore, if you wish to know specifically which chapters have adult content in them, I will try to remember to label them. Thanks bunches! ~ESTD

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_People are always writing fics about the movie verse coming first. But what if the cartoon came first and something happened to make Lydia forget her best friend? What if time isn't as perfectly measurable as we like to think it is? Please read to find out._

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Time passes differently in the Neitherworld than it does in the mortal world. Some times this is a good thing and other times it is bad. But that's most things.

This is the story of how the passage of time in both worlds caused appalling consequences for two of the best friends the Neitherworld had ever seen.

Five minutes in the Neitherworld can differ anywhere from one minute, to two minutes, to two months, to two years, to twenty years in the mortal world. It is rare that a century passes, but it has been known to happen. This is the way the residents of the Neitherworld deal with the fact that they are no longer alive and have no right to visit the mortal realm. However, sometimes the reverse is true. There are times when five minutes in the mortal realm can feel like an eternity in the Neitherworld. All this story takes is four years in the mortal world and a full century in the Neitherworld for a man's mind to break and a girl to become a different person.

Perhaps a small premise to get our story started:  
There are some, few and far between, who can visit the mortal world after fully passing over into the Neitherworld. These are not the friendly little house ghosts that are stuck to their mortal homes for 125 years. These are ghosts with power. Power to do amazing things, not least of which is the ability to travel between worlds.

These ghosts**, **with all their amazing powers, discovered – and subsequently kept secret – the fact that they could bring the living (or "breathers") back with them. What's more, as long as a living person is in the Neitherworld, the passage of time in both worlds will sync up. The same, after much experimenting, was discovered to be true in reverse. If one of these world jumpers was in the mortal world, time stayed synced for the duration.

What's more, a ghost with those sorts of abilities is able to track the passage of time in both worlds simultaneously. Unlike the inhabitants of the Neitherworld, the house ghosts, or "breathers" who are limited to one time. However, this is not something that comes naturally and requires constant focus.

When one is heartbroken it is very hard to focus. And that is how Beetlejuice – our "hero," for lack of a better term – came to lose track of time in his best friend's world and, in part, his own. It is also the reason he ruined everything.


	2. Needful Reminders

**One Hour after Beetlejuice was Eaten by a Sandworm**

Lydia sat on her bed somehow surprised that she wasn't hyperventilating. Certainly she knew her family was still downstairs discussing the evening's events and taking turns having hysterics. Lydia was fairly sure her father was taking the most turns, but that hardly mattered in a house like theirs. Not wanting to deal with them shrieking at her or each other, Lydia had snuck back up to the relatively peaceful haven of her bedroom.

Barbara and Adam had popped their heads briefly through her door to make sure she wasn't sick with fear, but quickly realized she needed her own time to deal with the events. Supposedly, they'd gone back downstairs to try and explain everything to her parents.

Lydia was scared. She hadn't been nearly as scared when it was happening as she was now. Then she had been confused and disgusted.

Lydia was also mortified. Somehow, she'd always expected herself to be brave if something happened and she needed to defend herself. All those times she'd been read fairy tales, Lydia had always firmly claimed that she would save herself if something happened to her. She'd been wrong and it hurt to realize what a coward she was.

Well, at least she hadn't panicked or cried. And she had tried to say his name.

Somehow, that didn't make her feel better. Oddly, it made her feel guilty. Lydia didn't like lying or breaking promises, so she hoped it was just that. After some serious internal debate, she convinced herself that her feelings of guilt were actually a good thing. If she felt guilt about breaking a promise, she was still a good kid and wouldn't go to hell.

Sighing lightly, Lydia tried to lie back on her bed. She was stopped by all the layers of red tulle pressing painfully into her back and against the hoop skirt. Lydia could feel the mesh of the fabric leaving marks on her skin. It had been hard enough managing to sit down in the hoop skirt.

Lydia finally decided she was done ignoring the dress. She stood and observed it in her vanity mirror. It was more than a little over the top, but that had never bothered Lydia. However, she wasn't sure what she thought of the color. Lydia hadn't liked red since she'd left her home in Peaceful Pines.

The longer Lydia stared at it, the more she thought she liked it. Right up until she started feeling for the zipper. There simply wasn't one. Whatever magic had gotten her into the dress would be needed to get her back out of it intact.

Setting her lips into a grim little line, Lydia took a pair of scissors she hardly ever used and began to cut along the seam on her right side. At least there was a seam, she was pleased to note, because now she could sew a zipper onto the new cut.

Hold on, why was she thinking about keeping it?

Lydia thought about that even as she continued with her shimmying to get it off. After a few minutes of struggling and **a** cutting the seam a couple more inches, the dress was pooled in front of her vanity and she was heading into her closet to find something more her. No answer came to her as she pulled on a pair of black leggings and a long-sleeved black shirt. However, she had not changed her mind.

Regarding the mass of crinoline on her floor, Lydia finally got a hanger and stuck the thing in her closet for the moment. If anyone asked, she'd just tell them it was a reminder of what not to do. It wouldn't even completely be lying.

As Lydia finally crawled into bed, feeling a whole lot better about the whole mess than the rest of her newly extended family, she had a sudden thought that changed her dreams to nightmares. She wished he'd left the ring.

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**About Two Years after Beetlejuice was Eaten by a Sandworm**  
_Lydia is approximately seventeen and a __half_

The sound of cicadas outside her window was slightly soothing and Lydia was pleased to be able to leave it open. There were some good things about living on the second story even if it was harder to sneak out.

Lydia gritted her teeth. Not like she needed to sneak out now. She and her most recent boyfriend had broken up the week before and Lydia was still upset. Justin had been fine, it was all her. And Lydia was starting to feel like there was something wrong with her. Even her friends seemed surprised at this latest breakup.

But the guys were boring. There was always something missing. Maybe Lydia's childhood had been too exciting.

Then again, aside from her encounter with a poltergeist, Lydia didn't think she'd done too many exciting things. So why did it feel like she had?

She thought about that for a long time. Finally, she got up and peeked into her closet as if its contents could answer her questions.

The dress was anything but a secret. One of her parents, ghost or living, still came in at least once a month to look at it or touch it. They treated it with some twisted reverence that disturbed Lydia. They never said anything and the visits got less frequent every year, but it seemed that they all needed reminders sometimes. Lydia looked at it at least once a week, sometimes even pulled it out.

She almost regretted sewing the zipper on it. There were nights when she couldn't resist putting the monstrosity on and twirling around her room with the door locked. Those nights Lydia was careful to pull her curtains tightly closed.

Not like today.

Lydia firmly closed her closet doors so that she wouldn't be tempted. Somewhere in the back of her mind a thought niggled at her.

That dress was the reason she couldn't hold a boyfriend. Even when she didn't break up with the boy herself, the relationships ended pretty quickly. There would always be some excuse about how she seemed miles away. One had even asked if it was him she thought about when they were making out. Lydia didn't want to admit, even to herself, that he definitely wasn't.

So, here she was, once again alone on a Friday night. Her whole summer stretched ahead of her looking sadly empty. Most of her friends were going on extensive vacations this summer or at least going to look at colleges. That was one of the drawbacks to going to private school; everyone had money to do whatever they wanted in their time off. Her parents were too comfortable in the house to go anywhere else. And if they weren't leaving, neither was Lydia.

Briefly, Lydia thought about getting a job, just for something to do. The thought passed as quickly as it had come. She knew she'd spend her summer working on her photography.

With all these thoughts rolling through her head, Lydia turned to her bed and flopped down on it. The thick comforter was surprisingly cool and felt good after the heat of the day. It wouldn't for long, but now that she was lying down, Lydia couldn't be bothered to get back up and close her window.

As she lay there, a sudden thought caused her chest to restrict. Her fingers curled into the sheet hard enough to cause the stuffing to bunch and pucker.

That stupid _poltergeist_, her mind spat the word like it was a curse, was in her head again. If she didn't think about him so much she would swear the thoughts were planted there by the villain himself.

But Lydia knew better. She couldn't blame the poltergeist for this. Even her dreams seemed haunted.

Right after the almost marriage, Lydia had started dreaming about being a kid again in Peaceful Pines. She was in her middle school uniform for the Miss Shannon's there and she was so mad she was on the verge of tears. A cool arm was draped across her shoulders and Lydia buried her face in a coat smelling a bit of mildew, dirt, and body odor. Somehow the smell seemed familiar. Instead of being disgusted, Lydia felt immediately comforted.

The dream was always the same though. As soon as she felt calm enough to pull back from the comforting figure with a grateful smile, she woke up. Lydia worried what they meant. She didn't remember anyone like that. Only Prudence and Bertha. Neither of whom smelled like that dirty coat did.

Those left her feeling wistful for a while, but now she dreaded them. After having them several times a week for a year, Lydia had begun to have an inkling of who that coat, smell, and arm belonged to. Now when she had the dream she woke up in a cold sweat, panting like she'd run a mile.

It had only gotten worse.

Around her sixteenth birthday, Lydia began having dreams that were far more vivid even if she didn't fully remember them in the morning. All she remembered was a deep red tint to her surroundings and the feeling that there had been someone else with her in that red tinted world.

Like the dream of her childhood, this got clearer the older she got. Lydia still couldn't call the dream to mind with any detail, but she knew who was with her and she knew what they were doing.

Those dreams made her wake up in a much warmer sweat and Lydia often had problems falling back asleep because she was so frustrated.

The very worst part of it was that Lydia looked forward to them. To both dreams. It had gotten to the point where if she wasn't working on a project, out with a boyfriend, or with her friends, then she was sleeping. She could barely close her eyes without feeling like she was about to be sucked into a dream.

Like right now. The cool of her comforter as she pressed her cheek against it made her eyes close involuntarily. The dream world seemed to dance in front of her eyes. Lydia knew this would be one of the red dreams. She smiled.


	3. Holding Pattern

The celebrities mentioned in this chapter died in 1989. However, this story is actually set now so time is a little funky. I might be adding some celebrities from the nineties if I do another waiting room scene, but we'll see.

The celebrities mentioned are Huey Newton and Lucille Ball in that order.

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Please note that previous chapters have been updated and if any more problems are found in them, they will be updated again. As will all the chapters.

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**About Nine Years after Beetlejuice was Eaten by a Sandworm**  
_Lydia has recently turned twenty-four_

Lydia smiled at the happy couple. Most photographers she knew hated weddings, but Lydia loved them. That's why her boss always had her do them when he could. Now that she was starting to make a name for herself it was easier. People were always requesting her and that made Lydia smile even more.

This particular couple was fairly normal; white dress, yellow and white flowers, little girls in fluffy dresses. Frankly, it was kind of adorable. It was probably meant to be regal or grand or something, but not for someone whose whole life was weddings.

Lydia had seen some amazing weddings. They ranged from courthouse weddings to mansions, though she was lucky to get those mansion jobs. Then there were the themed ones, the dark ones, and definitely the over-the-top ones. Lydia liked them all. She could even manage a bridezilla.

The ones in churches were best. To Lydia, there was something utterly soothing about entering that church, sitting peacefully until she was needed under all that sweeping architecture. Even the small or dark churches brought her some peace in her crazy life.

This wedding should be over soon. They only needed her for the first thirty or forty minutes of the reception and the minister was wrapping up. Lydia readjusted her angle to get a shot of the groom's face.

He looked stupid with happiness, with a little goofy grin plastered over his face and eyes that couldn't seem to settle on the minister or his wife. His wife, on the other hand, looked blissful. Some brides looked smug, but this one obviously knew she had made the right choice and was grateful to have found a great guy.

Lydia knew the bride's calm came at a high price. Several things had gone wrong, as they always do, and instead of trying to hide it from the bride, everyone had brought the problems to her. She had just smiled and given them some logical alternative. Lydia had been stunned until the room had cleared and the bride's face crumpled. Sometimes it was easier to cry to a stranger and this was one of those times. The bride confided her worries in Lydia. Lydia had soothed them easily; they were the same worries that all brides had. Then the serene look had come back and it was like nothing had ever gone wrong.

Lydia's fingers had itched for a camera during that transformation. The woman was beautiful when she smiled like that. Instead, Lydia settled for getting the modest half-smile she wore now.

About two hours later Lydia walked into her apartment with a tired sigh. She knew she'd gotten some great shots and had even been given some leftovers, but she was exhausted from lugging the heavy camera around and dealing with all those people. Setting her equipment carefully in its corner, she moved to her desk.

On her desk was a large black scrapbook. Lydia ran her fingers across it in a gesture that was both loving and apologetic. "Not this time, but next week looks promising," she cooed to it.

Smiling softly, she moved on, ready for a shower. November was supposed to be colder than this and Lydia had worn too many layers.

A little while later, she came out wearing some pajama shorts and an over-sized t-shirt. It was only late afternoon, but Lydia planned on watching movies in bed. Or maybe reading a book. Without even thinking about, Lydia found she had grabbed her black scrapbook before climbing into bed.

Snuggling under the covers, Lydia flipped the book open to the first page. The way the book refused to close all the way showed how full the last pages where, but Lydia tried to save them for last. Instead, she browsed through the pictures she'd take through the years.

This was where her interest in Gothic architecture showed through. Over all the pages were dark stone, gargoyles, deep pulpits, and any number of other things she'd found dark and beautiful over the years. She had more like these with clothes and animals and other things, but this one was her favorite.

Lydia only got halfway through the book before the urge to look at the back page overwhelmed her.

For a long time Lydia just stared at the page with a happy smile slowly shaping her lips.

Over a two page sprawl, Lydia had created a collage. It was very obviously a wedding collage. The background was a small local church that had very dark, ominous look with large arched windows behind the pulpit. She'd managed to capture some of the pews in the shot.

Leading up to the pulpit, there were urns with black and red flowers. The flowers were covered with delicate cobwebs. Lydia had gotten a friend of hers to create those with Photoshop without explaining why she wanted them. Her friend probably still wondered.

Off to the sides of the pulpit were little gargoyles looking down from balcony areas. Lydia knew the guy who owned these particular gargoyles and he had already promised to let Lydia borrow them when she finally got married. He got excited every time she got a new boyfriend.

Behind the pulpit was a fairly short, grave looking priest. Father Richard was anything but grave. He was also Catholic while Lydia had no real religion at all. Still, they'd formed a solid friendship and he was adamant about being the one to wed her. Lydia had just grinned at him like she expected nothing less.

Standing near the bride and groom were some fairly traditional bridesmaid and groomsman clothes. The groomsmen had no faces, but pictures of Bertha and Prudence's faces had been added to the tops of the bridesmaid dresses.

There were other little touches here and there on the collage as she went to more weddings and found more ideas. She'd even tweaked the church to be more to her liking even though it meant she wouldn't find the exact church on the proper day.

But the thing that would cause her parents to panic was the two cutouts facing each other in front of the pulpit.

In place of the bride was a red dress. It was disturbingly similar to the red dress that she'd managed to leave in her bedroom closet at her parents' house in Winter River. There was no red tulle. This dress looked softer like it was made of silk and had a short train. Lydia had pasted little black designs in some areas of it and added a black sash with a ribbon on the back.

But her family might look past that if it weren't for the groom. He had no face, just like the dress, but the suit was crushed velvet. It was so dark a red that it was almost black. Lydia hadn't dared give it white shoes.

Lydia smiled and ran her fingers over the dress lovingly. She made to do the same to the groom's suit but pulled her fingers back at the last moment.

Finally, Lydia determined that she'd been looking long enough. She closed the book and set it on her nightstand, grabbing the remote from underneath it first. She let the sitcom dull her mind and help her forget, for a little while, the man that haunted her.

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**One Year after Beetlejuice was Eaten by a Sandworm**  
_Now Serving Number 1,150,991,520,000_

Beetlejuice was ready to pull his hair out. Only 8,847,392,230,000 to go. Since it had been exactly one year, that meant it would take… Beetlejuice took a long moment, possibly an hour or five, to figure this out: another seven years and nine months.

It killed him that he was bored enough to do that math. He'd always known, though actively tried not to acknowledge, that he was intelligent enough to do that kind of math. But no one should ever be this bored!

"Hey guy. Got the time?" There was only one person left in the waiting room from the group he'd originally been with and that was the magician's assistant. She hadn't gotten less frosty over the past year. So Beetlejuice was asking the rather angry looking dark skinned fellow with three bullet holes in his face. The guy gritted his teeth and pretended he didn't hear.

Beetlejuice shrugged and looked around some more. He'd tried talking to all these people. At one point, he'd even asked someone about themselves. That had been a lesson in boring. Most recently, he'd tried to seduce the coiffed redhead who was a little old for his usual taste. She'd made fun of him in such a way that it took him a while to catch on. When he had, she'd given this silent, but superbly pleased laugh. He'd left her alone after that.

Now he was sitting here with nothing to do but _think_. His long tongue rolled out in disgust as he made a gagging noise. A couple of the newer arrivals looked at him askance before going back to their own thoughts.

The only thing he could really find to think about was his latest foray into the mortal realm. It was the last thing he wanted to think about.

First had come the thoughts of revenge. Beetlejuice had only entertained himself with those ideas for the first few months. Contrary to what most people thought of Beetlejuice, he didn't usually hold grudges for long.

Then he had started thinking about what happened. The more he thought about it, the more they seemed familiar.

Now Beetlejuice was wracking his brains, in some cases literally (very disturbing to the other petitioners), trying to remember what they reminded him off.

It wasn't those pesky Maitlands. It was the names of the living family. Chuck and Delia and… Lydia. Beetlejuice loved the name Lydia, but he didn't want to remember why. But he could feel the wall blocking that memory crumbling.

Soon he would remember why those names were so important. For better or worse.


	4. Time Sucks

Celebrities are Ray Combs, Nicole Simpson, and Stevie Ray Vaughan in order of appearance.

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Yes, this chapter is short. I'm torn on whether or not the next chapter goes into their history a little or moves us forward so I'm adding a little step in both directions.

Also, I'm open to suggestions, preferences, helpful critiques, and the works. Don't feel obligated, but if there's something you want, I'd love to hear about it.

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**SevenYears after Beetlejuice was Eaten by a Sandworm  
**_Now Serving Number 8,059,942,647,886_

Beetlejuice could _feel_ that it was getting close to his number. Then he remembered that there were still 1,938,441,102,114 ghosts left in front of him. Heck, that coiffed redhead had gotten out of her before him. Beetlejuice was sure he'd been cheated.

Surprisingly, that didn't seem so important to him anymore.

Today was the anniversary of when he'd been sent here seven years before and he was celebrating it obnoxiously by walking around in a party hat and putting his arm around people.

The first was a guy trailing bed sheets around his neck. He was staring hard at Miss Argentina and when mumbling things. When Beetlejuice had gotten closer, he realized that guy was just repeating the words "civil servant" over and over. _Bo-oring_. So Beetlejuice decided to liven up his afterlife. "Hey, how ya doin'?" he flashed a sleazy grin. "You like jokes?" The guy flashed him a glare that could peel paint and shoved him away before going back to his muttering.

Beetlejuice, mildly offended, readjusted his suit and moved on to some smoking blonde chick with a gaping neck. Reminded him of Juno except she was _hot_. Wearing some skimpy black outfit that showed just enough. Heck, he didn't even mind all the extra stab wounds. However, she took one look at him, crossed her legs, and pretended he didn't exist. Beetlejuice, not put off in the least, sat next to her long enough to get a good look down her top before moving on.

Lastly, he tried some guy with a head all bent out of shape. What was it with all these people getting stabbed, shot, or whatever in the head? This one seemed slightly more genial. He looked at Beetlejuice's hat for a second, which was all it took for Beetlejuice to go off on some long spiel about getting left at the alter and eaten. The guy lost interest quickly.

Now Beetlejuice was left to sit on his own and think some more. He'd been idly humming the song piping through the waiting room speakers when he suddenly realized it was the "Banana Boat Song." Sure the Maitlands had chosen it to scare the Deetz's, but it had been his and Lydia's song first.

Wait… what? Where had that thought come from?

Beetlejuice rewound the thought to see if it made more sense the second time around. It did. He remembered. Oh hell, he remembered.

His best friend Lydia from over a hundred years ago… no, only eleven… Beetlejuice put his head in his hands. He couldn't remember properly.

After a few minutes of struggling with this new information, Beetlejuice realized that time had gone funky and he'd been so messed up he hadn't even noticed it. Now he wanted to cry. Well, not in front of these jerks.

He hadn't just gone out and tortured some random family like he thought. He'd gone out and tortured his best friend's family. And then he'd tried to marry his best friend without evening recognizing her.

Suddenly Beetlejuice felt low. He felt so low that he began to melt into a puddle in his seat. "Alright, pull yourself together man." At least now he knew, he thought as he literally pulled himself together. Maybe she would even forgive him.

But… why hadn't she remembered him?

Then it really hit him. Fully.

This was going to be harder than he'd thought.


End file.
